


What Remains of Amicia Gresley: A Former Finch's Tale

by MorallyDraconequus



Category: Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Bunch of OCs - Freeform, Flashbacks Galore, Hallucinations, I'll add tags as I go cause man did the plan go off the rails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorallyDraconequus/pseuds/MorallyDraconequus
Summary: The Gresley family is quite famous in the railway world. Well known examples would be Scot (driver of the Flying Scotsman), Spencer (the private engine driver for the Duke and Duchess of Boxford) and Gordon (driver of the No.4 Engine in the North Western Fleet).Gordon was the most sensitive when it comes to his family and its matters. He only knew very little of the truth of his parents, a mother he loved and a father he hated. There was no way they actually loved each other.  But danger still lurks, a character from their past plots to keep the history that way, hiding away the truth.So when his father, Nigel Gresley, is on death's door, Gordon becomes rather hesitant to either let him die with hatred or dignity.Eventually through exploring his old family home, Gordon will learn more of his family, and what really remains of Amicia Gresley.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this in the works during the trainwreck that was 2020 in a long arduous (most likely failed) attempt to establish some headcanons in my au, particularly Gordon's family.  
> Only did a few chapters, leaving this one here to see if people want more and a tad stuck with Gordon in Wonderland.  
> Please leave a review so I can tell what I should improve on and what skills of mine deteriorated during 2020.  
> Big thanks for Brownsugar-Chan for betareading and proof reading!  
> -Morally

It was late at night by the time Gordon was back from pulling the express. He had a pile of mail left on the table so he decided to take a look through them all before he’d go to bed. And by that, he meant collapsing on said bed and passing out.

Bill, bill, advertisement, flyer, bill, and a letter?

It had a rubber seal on it, the same one that belonged to the family lawyer. It might be important… might.

Gordon took the letter opener, sliding it through the paper. Just before he could take the letter out of its envelope, his phone rang. He huffed due to the inconvenience, checking on it. He had one voice message left on it, since Gordon has the tendency to put his phone on silent during work or just leave it at home altogether. 

“Hello Gordon, it’s Scot. Listen, I’m afraid I’m a little occupied to deal with the dilemma that popped up,’

What dilemma? What was he talking about?

“I’ve called up Spencer and he’s also ‘busy’… but between you and me, he’s not the best person for this and you’re the only one I could think of. Now, I know you don’t like doing paperwork or dealing with Father but I’m going out of the country and won’t be back soon enough. I’m sure you can work something out to take some time off.”

What does Father have to do with anything? This can’t be good.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine Gordon, Father’s lawyer will get you the key to the house once all the paperwork is done. It’ll be quick, don’t worry,”

Don’t worry? He has to go back there again?!

“You’ll have the entire place to yourself to stay in. Knowing you, you’d probably head back to Sodor immediately but it’s your choice. In the meantime, take care little brother.”

It took Gordon a minute to process things, confused at what sort of chain of events Scot meant. His eyes landed on the opened letter, hurrying to pull the paper out to find answers.

_‘Dear Gordon Gresley,_

_A week ago, your father, Nigel Gresley, suffered from a stroke. He is now in hospital but with his decline in health over recent years, the doctors have announced that he only has roughly a month left to live._

_As his lawyer, I’ve been requested to make sure the paperwork has been sorted by a member of the family and that I give the key to the Gresley household to you. He did not give any reason for the key, even though the house is part of your inheritance, but you might find the answers yourself once you arrive in London._

_Sincerely,_

_Jacob Cratchit.”_

This was all too much. First, Gordon has to pick now or never to talk to the man that was his father. Second… he has to go back there…

He felt sick, that someone was twisting a knife in his gut, deeper and deeper. Gordon had to breathe… this was probably a nightmare… he’d wake up with cold sweat and a scream and laugh it off when he woke up… only he didn’t...

Gordon tried to recollect his thoughts, walking to the bathroom to splash water on his face. Perhaps it will help… 

He could walk blindfolded in his house, so he had forgotten to turn the light on. When he did, the door looked… different. It looked too familiar for his liking… 

Gordon tried to back away from this sick hallucination, only to find that he bumped into the sink. It was closer to him than it should be, in fact, Gordon found that the sink was pushing him towards the door. The walls were closing in on him, the interior in the bathroom got smaller and smaller. The man tried to hold his ground, fearing what was behind the door.

It was no use, the room was shrinking on Gordon, or he had consumed a cake iced ‘EAT ME’ and was growing and growing. Either way, he would be crushed to death if he didn’t go through the door.

Fumbling with the handle, Gordon nearly collapsed as he opened the door. Now the door was in its right place, which was what Gordon was worried about when he was forced by the room he was in prior.

It was a long corridor, the curtains closed in all the windows, any moonlight that escaped the curtains and the incredibly dim lights made very little difference to comfort Gordon. He could barely tell where the ends of the corridor were, if there were any at all. Hearing a click and the squeak of the old door hinges, Gordon saw the light of a fireplace of a door opened very little. He was so far away from it. And he wanted to keep it that way.

“Gordon,” a voice beckoned for him, “Come here.” 

As soon as Gordon heard it, he was frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. He wanted to run, flee to whatever monster that was hiding in the dark of the other end of the hallway, to try and break through the other doors to hide it out, if not leave the building with cut glass embedded in him.

Fear made him stay still, the corridor pulling him towards the open door without forcing him to take a step. Every second he got closer, it felt that he got smaller too, shrinking bit by bit. By the time he was at the door, his head was barely above the doorknob itself. All of the independence he gained through the years had seemingly abandoned him, obedience was the only thing that was left to have hope in. The hand that he used to push the door was like a child’s. 

Gordon kept his head down as he moved closer, too scared to make any eye contact. He didn’t know why he came here, was he reliving a memory or was this a bad omen? 

He just knew it had to be him. The voice was unrecognizable, Gordon never had the courage to look up and see who this phantom was. It had to be his father, he knew it.

No one would come to intervene, no one would ever help him when he needed it. He cried not because he was praying that someone would, but because he knew the truth that no one would come save him. Because he remembered that no one had ever come to help. There was no one left.

Gordon watched the shadow move, raising its hand as if it were going to strike something. Gordon just stood there, accepting his fate…

He jolted just before he was hit, finding himself in his own bed…


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh bother…” 

Gordon sat up, rubbing his head. He’d take a painkiller or two and have a nap to soothe his headache but work calls.

He hadn’t touched the opened letter for a few days already. Ever since he had been hit with the situation, the nightmares had seemingly been getting worse and worse.

“So this is what I get for deciding not to go.” Gordon grumbled, apparently the universe loved to torture him.

The only letters he had been reading recently were the ones from an old therapist, if not an old friend. 

Gordon skimmed over the recent letter he had received from this said therapist, since he didn’t get a good look at it the night before.

_ ‘Dear Gordon, _

_ Thank you for telling me about your recent nightmares. I believe the stress is triggering some of your unpleasant memories. I suggest that you get more sleep, keep hydrated and engage in more physical activity to take your mind off things. I’m not one to decide whether you should come back to the place that has been ‘haunting’ you, as you had said, but forgetting would be a preferable option in your case, rather than confronting it. _

_ It’s also good to see that the hallucinations haven’t been reoccurred for the past few weeks. Considering that you’ve said that they’re ‘on and off’, it’s good progress for the past few years. _

_ Kind regards. _

_ Dr Lloyd Thompson. ’ _

Gordon would have to apply that advice later today. He wasted no time getting dressed and headed for Tidmouth Sheds earlier than he usually did. The sooner he got the day over and done with, the better.

…

“Aren’t you a little early!” Thomas remarks upon a Gordon arriving.

“Not now, Thomas. I’m not in the mood to deal with your little comebacks.” The latter grumbled.

Thomas just rolled his eyes. “Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Quite literally by the looks of it,” Rebecca said concerningly, “Gordon, did you sleep well?”

Gordon rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as more people came to the station. “As well as the few previous nights, to tell the truth.” Rebecca was not really satisfied with such a vague answer but left Gordon alone anyway.

Fifteen minutes before the express departs. Should be enough time to try to clear his head, or calm down… either one. 

Ten minutes. He was about to board onto the engine cab.

That was when he caught sight of something. Gordon had his few moments of envy, when he saw mothers and their children being together. Ever since he turned seven, Gordon Gresley never had such moments because death had taken his mother away. 

Normally, Gordon would shake out the jealous thoughts and continue on… but there was something particular about this instance. He thought he heard his own mother, blinking to see that it was just another woman walking past him, holding her son’s hand as they walked across the station. 

‘You should be more careful now’

He turned, to see a little girl crying over a scraped knee, her mother kissing her head and hugging her to comfort the child.

Gordon should’ve turned away, he should not be staring… but it was too late. The memories were starting to flood back to him.

Why wouldn’t it stop? Why couldn’t he focus? Why was he crying?

Gordon couldn’t let the others see him like this, so he ran to the breakroom and into the restroom. Staring at the dark abyss in the drain, his arms propped onto the sink.

The memories kept repeating over and over, Gordon had fallen too deep to recollect his thoughts in time.

Was it ironic that her voice, her laugh, her smile, her touch, things that Gordon missed about her were haunting him like a plague?

He had worked so hard to keep the memories out, to make the hallucinations stop, so that Gordon could just forget the past and move on… but every time he made a step forward, there was something that pushed him two steps back…

Was this the price of wanting to forget? That you have to endure the pain just to be in peace in the end? Will it be worth it at all?

“Gordon?” Henry had entered the restroom, “Gordon, Rebecca saw you going in here, the express is going to-”

Gordon hadn’t even noticed the presence of the other man, still so caught up in his thoughts. He couldn’t hear anything in the real world, not even his own heartbeat racing nor heavy breathing.

“Gordon… what’s wrong?” Henry came up to Gordon, the sight of him was almost entirely foreign.

Henry had known about how ‘well’ Gordon had been sleeping, courtesy of Thomas and James. “Gordon… was it a nightmare?”

“They weren’t nightmares,” Gordon muttered, starting to become aware of the real world

“They’re memories… they make me sick….”

“Hey… Rebecca can take over the express today and James doesn’t need extra time off,” said Henry, “I’ll take you home, okay? You need a break more than ever.”

Gordon slipped back into the world of reality outside, nodding.

When Henry dropped him off, Gordon had to make plans to meet up with the Fat Controller the next day.


End file.
